The Vaudevillian
by thepalemoonlight
Summary: AU Faberry. Set in the beginning of the 20th Century. Young and desperate for fame, Rachel Berry finds work as a singer with the controversial travelling vaudeville troupe, Schuester & Sylvester. The star acts quickly feel the pressure as her talent threatens to outshine them. Meanwhile, Rachel takes interest in the magician's mysterious assistant.
1. Chapter 1

**The Vaudevillian**

AU Faberry. Set in the beginning of the 20th Century. Young and desperate for fame, Rachel Berry finds work as a singer with the controversial travelling vaudeville troupe, Schuester & Sylvester. The star acts quickly feel the pressure as her talent threatens to outshine them. Meanwhile, Rachel takes interest in the magician's mysterious assistant.

* * *

Chapter 1

The sun had risen many hours ago, and the city was bustling hurriedly about. The people were out, the stores were open, and the streets were full. The turn of the century had people's spirits up. Slavery was a thing of the past, America's economy was on the rise, immigration was big, people were optimistic about the future. Especially Rachel Berry.

Rachel walked around the small room dusting the odd assortment of second-hand objects that were for sale. She lived in the one room apartment above the shop with her father, Hiram, and his business partner, Leroy. They both were Jewish immigrants, but Rachel was the only person who knew that the two men were also lovers. They had told her when she was very young, not long after her American-born mother had run off with a westbound door-to-door salesman.

She checked the clock on the wall just as it hit half past noon. She discarded the dust rag and hurried upstairs to announce her nearing departure and to check her hair. When she left, Hiram and Leroy wished her good luck.

Rachel walked quickly through the streets even though her destination was only two blocks away. Despite being particularly punctual, a line was already forming outside the door. She took her place and quietly assessed her competition. She only recognized two of the others in line. One was Rebecca Aronowitz, a woman in her early thirties who looked as if she were fifteen. The other was Ruth Goldberg, the daughter of a local drunk.

Time went by slowly and the line continued to grow longer. Eventually, the door opened and a man with a notepad stepped out. He began taking their information and sending them inside the lounge one by one. When it was Rachel's turn, she took a deep breath, covered her nerves with a smile, and walked into the building. She was pointed to a back room which was heavily filled with smoke. Three men in suits sat at a table with drinks at their mouths. A bored looking woman sat with them. She had a man's haircut and she too was wearing a suit, something Rachel had never seen before.

"What's your name, sweetheart?" One of the men asked. His mustache was so thick that Rachel couldn't see his lips move when he spoke. If it weren't for the cloud of smoke that billowed out from beneath the enormous strip of facial hair, she wouldn't have known he was the one who had talked.

"My name is Rachel Berry, sir." She answered, trying to remain calm and professional. This was her second audition of the month, making it the seventh of the year.

"Start when you're ready, doll." Another said.

Rachel sang like she'd never sung before. She sang with feeling, with heart, with everything she had. She sang like her life depended on this audition. Although her life technically didn't, her chances of making it in the entertainment business certainly did. She had learned early on that no one wants to hire a poor little Jewish girl with an immigrant father, no matter how determined or qualified she was. Of course, Rachel didn't want just any job, though. She wanted to sing. She wanted to perform. She wanted her name in lights. She wanted to be a star.

The three men applauded her as the song ended. The youngest man stood and removed his cap. "That was amazing. You can really sing." He shook her hand. "My name's William Schuester. It's a pleasure to meet someone so talented. This is my partner, Sue Sylvester, and these are our associates."

"It's so nice to meet all of you." Rachel tried to contain just how enthused she really was. She hadn't expected to sing for one of the bosses, let alone both Schuester _and_ Sylvester. It thrilled her to meet famous people. Their troupe, though highly controversial, was one of the best around. Their main attraction was The Fantastic Finn, one of the very few magician acts who could headline a vaudeville show. They also had a popular comedic act starring Trouty and the Boys. All of their acts were good, but what really made the troupe a topic of conversation were the types of people within the acts. Schuester & Sylvester was the only troupe around that had both white and non-white performers on stage together.

"That was truly extraordinary." The Mustache praised, his hand reaching for his nearly empty glass.

"Agreed." The last man nodded.

"Tell us…" The Mustache took a sip from his glass, followed by a long drag on his cigar. "…why do you want to be a part of Schuester & Sylvester?"

"Well, sir, I love to sing. Performing is the only thing that I want to do with my life." Rachel said.

"You wouldn't get too homesick, now would you?" The Mustache chuckled.

"No, sir. I've dreamed about travelling the country all my life." She said.

The Mustache nodded approvingly and turned his attention to refilling his glass. The third man wiped his brow with his handkerchief and then said, "We've got two more shows before we head east. You really think you can be ready to leave in a few days?"

"Oh, yes, sir. I could be ready by tonight, honestly." She realized after the words had left her just how desperate she sounded. The man simply laughed and refilled his own glass.

William Schuester looked over at Sue Sylvester expectantly. At first she only stared through the smoke at Rachel, but finally she said, "William, she's the one we've been looking for."

Rachel felt a rush of relief come flooding down on her. Schuester excitedly opened the door and told a man to inform the rest of the girls waiting outside that auditions were now over. He hurried back to Rachel.

"How old are you?" He asked, bouncing gleefully on his heels.

"Seventeen." She had tried lying about her age at other auditions, but this time she felt confident enough to be truthful. Besides, Rachel hardly even passed as the age she actually was.

"Hmm." Schuester rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

Sylvester pulled out a briefcase and rummaged through it while saying, "We'll need the permission of whoever takes care of you for you to tour with us. They'll need to fill out a few forms. Nothing too complicated. Here, take these papers, run home and get them signed, and we'll meet you here for dinner around, say…six."

Rachel did exactly as she was told. She took the forms straight home and got her father to read them over.

When Hiram finished signing his name on the last time, he sighed and handed the papers back to his daughter. She could see the worry on his tired face.

"Everything's going to be fine. Schuester and Sylvester seem like very nice people. They're going to look out for me, I know it. Besides, this is what I want. You know how hard I've worked, how many auditions I've gone to. This is my chance. This is my chance to become someone big." She tried to sound as comforting as she could.

"I know, sweetheart, I know. And I'm proud of you." He looked over his shoulder at Leroy. "We both are. It's just a father's job to worry, that's all. I have faith in you, Rachel. You've got a good head on your shoulders. I know you'll make good decisions for yourself."

"I will. I'll stay out of trouble." She promised.

"We love you." Hiram took Rachel's hand and kissed it. "We love you so much. You're our babygirl."

"I'll always be your babygirl." She smiled, trying to cover up how emotional she was becoming.

Leroy squeezed Hiram's shoulders and laughed. "Come on, you two. This isn't goodbye. We've still got a few days."

They spent the next few hours down in the shop together, imagining what traveling with a troupe would be like. Rachel was back at the lounge by five-thirty.

"Good. You're early." Sylvester waved her over to their table.

Schuester stood politely as she took her seat. "Dinner's on us, Rachel."

"Thank you." A wave of relief flooded her. She had been counting on them picking up the tab, since she hardly had enough money to pay for the napkin that she had just placed over her lap.

"You have the papers filled out?" Sylvester asked eagerly. Rachel handed them to her. She hardly glanced at them before putting them away in her briefcase. "Excellent. Now where's that waiter?"

They chatted idly as they ate. When dinner was over, they told her wonderful stories of how they got started in the business and of the beautiful places that they'd seen travelling across the country. They discussed what type of act she would have, what she should sing, if she should have back-up vocals and how many, what type of personality she should portray. By the end of the night, Rachel was on the edge of her seat.

The anticipation over the next few days was incredible. All she could think about was being a part of Schuester & Sylvester. The night before she was scheduled to officially join them, they gave her and her father free tickets to see the show.

It was like nothing Rachel had ever imagined.

First, Schuester came on stage. He thanked everyone for coming, cracked a few jokes, and introduced the first act. An Irish man named Rory Flanagan who could do odd circus tricks like juggling and sword swallowing opened the show, then he brought out a small dog who could do flips and correctly guess which hat a walnut was under. Next was a wonderfully smart parody of a scene from a popular Shakespeare play. Then the dancers, who were more risqué than Rachel had expected them to be. Then a quartet took the stage. Then Trouty and the Boys had the audience doubled over in fits of laughter. And finally, to end the show, The Fantastic Finn took the stage. When he introduced his assistant, Quinn, he described her as being beautiful, as all magicians do. But this time, it was an understatement. She was the most gorgeous woman that Rachel had ever seen. No words could fully describe her. The act was amazing and mind-blowing, as it was advertised to be, but in the end, Rachel decided that she was blown away more by Quinn's elegant stage presence and incredible attractiveness than the fact that she just watched The Fantastic Finn make her disappear.

The next morning, Rachel met Schuester at the train station.

"Good morning, my dear Rachel." He removed his cap and bowed. When he was vertical again, he snapped his fingers and a man rushed over to take Rachel's bag aboard the train for her. "Did you enjoy the show last night?"

"Very much. It was far more impressive than anything I've ever seen before. You have some very talented people working for you." She gushed.

"Allow me to give you the tour." He held out his hand and helped Rachel up the steps. He showed her each car of the train. First was the conductor at the front, then storage, next was rooming compartments for the help, then the kitchen, a lounge, two cars of rooming compartments for the performers with restrooms and running water, rooming compartments for the show's security, an office "business" car, and finally Schuester's and Sylvester's own personal compartments.

He led her back to the performers' car and showed her the compartment that would be hers. Inside was a cot with clean bed sheets and a new pillow, a shelf, a very small dresser, a lamp, and a cracked mirror. It wasn't luxurious like she had assumed it would be, but it was still more private and new than what she had had at home.

She moved her few items of clothing from her bag to the dresser, put her few items of make-up and accessories on top of it, and then pushed her bag underneath the cot. A smile formed on her lips as the train started to move. She had never been on a train before, and now she was living on one.

The contract she and her father had signed was good for one year. In it, Schuester and Sylvester promised to look out for her, feed her, pay her, and not harm her. As long as she did what they told her to do, she would be living the big life in no time. Getting in with a vaudeville troupe was definitely going to boost Rachel's chances of making it in a more permanent show, maybe even on Broadway.

An hour later, someone rang a bell and Rachel heard an immense amount of movement. Doors were opening, feet were shuffling, people were talking. She decided it was probably best to join the herd.

She slid her door open. All of the people she had seen on stage the night before were walking past her. None of them noticed her. Half of them looked hung over, the others were busy talking to one another.

She waited until all had passed before she slipped out of her compartment and slid the door shut behind her. She followed the group in the direction of the dining car, but when she reached the connecting part it took her a little more time. Crossing a small bridge between two cars while the train was moving at high speeds was much more frightening than dong it while the train was motionless. She had a fierce grip on the rails as she tiptoed her way across.

When she finally made it to the dining car, everyone was already digging into their plates. Schuester, Sylvester, and a few others in suits sat at a table in the front. A table of men who did the stagehand work and security was next. The performers were mixed up in the remaining tables.

A blonde man, who Rachel recognized as Trouty, waved her over. She hesitantly took the empty seat next to him. A plate of suspicious looking food was there for her.

"You must be the new girl." He smiled. "I'm Sam. This is Rory, Tina, and Mike."

"Nice to meet you all. I'm Rachel." She smiled politely at the table, trying not to awkwardly stare at Tina or Mike. Rachel had never actually met any Asian people before.

"So you sing?" Rory asked, taking a large bite of the meat that Rachel couldn't identify.

"Yes." She answered, poking around her own plate and attempting to muster up some courage to try one of the things on it.

"Must be pretty good." Sam stuffed most of his roll into his mouth but kept talking anyway. "Schue's been dying to get a pretty lady with a nice set of pipes up in this joint. I think it started when he went and saw some competition that had some dame singing solo as their main act. You know him, always wanting to be the first to do everything and getting pissed off when someone beats him to it. That's why we've got ol' Chink and Chang over here."

Mike laughed and tossed his roll at Sam's head. "Say what you want, Trouty Mouth, but at least I can get affection from women who can see."

The others laughed but Rachel stared blankly at them. Tina explained, "Our dear Sam had a scandalous love affair last year with a blind prostitute during our stop in New York City."

"She was a nice lady." Sam shrugged. "I don't see the problem."

"Neither does she!" Rory laughed. This time Rachel was able to join them, and soon the tension of being the new kid trying to fit in faded away. Whenever they cracked a joke, they always let her in on it. They made her feel welcome, something Rachel realized she hadn't really been expecting.

By the end of lunch, she noticed that only two performers seemed to be missing.

"Where are the magician and his assistant?" She asked.

Mike and Tina exchanged looks, but Sam grinned. "That, young Rachel, depends on what story you believe."

"Story?" She questioned.

Sam leaned in closer to her. "You see, Finn and Quinn like to be mysterious. They keep to themselves, spend all of their time working on new tricks and such. They stay mostly in Finn's room. And no one's ever seen inside there, except Quinn and Schue. Some of these buffoons on this train think it's because there's some crazy witchcraft voodoo nonsense going on in there. They think the magic is real, because Finn's too good and no one knows how he does it. But me, I think Finn's just terrified of anyone finding out how he does his tricks. I bet ol' Finn's got that room covered in trick gadgets that he doesn't want seen."

"What do you two think?" Rachel asked, looking across the table at Mike and Tina.

Tina didn't say anything, but Mike whispered, "I don't even feel comfortable looking at that Finn man, I'm not about to talk any dirt on him."

"Then avert your eyes, oh innocent one." Sam chuckled as Finn and Quinn entered the dining car.

Even if Rachel hadn't known who they were, she still would have been able to tell that they were important. Schuester stood and said good morning as they passed. The stagehand and security men gathered their empty plates and cups and gave them their table. A stranger might have thought they were royalty. Rachel supposed that on that train, they almost were.

Finn, who looked strange without a top hat and black cape on, sat down first, not even offering a chair to his assistant first. He tapped the table impatiently while a young black girl hurried to bring them lunch. She had appeared so suddenly, it was almost as if she had been waiting for them to arrive with the plates already in her hands. Rachel watched as the girl sat down the food, was not thanked, and hurried quietly back to the kitchens.

When she turned back to her own table, Rachel noticed that Sam too had been watching. He looked pained and almost angered at what had happened. Without a word, he grabbed his plate, walked it over to a dirty dishes bin, and left the dining car. Rachel wanted to ask Mike and Tina why Sam had reacted the way he did, but her attention was drawn back to the magician's table.

The assistant was staring at her. Rachel tried to think of what she should do. Should she wave? Smile? Do nothing? She couldn't decide so all she did was helplessly stare back at the beautiful blonde. Slowly, Quinn's eyes moved to Finn, who was sitting close and whispering something in her ear.

It was then that Mike and Tina grabbed their plates and started to leave, so Rachel did the same. She did not want to be left sitting at the table alone. She returned to her rooming compartment and slid the door shut behind her. What did the others do while they traveled from city to city? Did they read? Socialize? Practice? If so, how? There was hardly enough room for her to take two steps, she couldn't imagine the dancers trying to move around in the small space.

She found herself staring out at the window for most of the afternoon. It didn't bore her, she loved seeing a landscape that wasn't the city. In fact, she had never seen so much grass and so many trees before. It inspired her, to see so much nature. For a while, she daydreamed of running through a patch of daises and finding a beautiful lake. It was easy to say that she wasn't missing the city at all.

Close to dinnertime, Schuester knocked on her door.

"Come in." She called.

"Hello, Rachel." He took off his cap as he slid the door shut behind him. "Everything going okay?"

"Yes, everything's fine, thanks."

"Good, good. Well, I just wanted to stop by and see how things were. I noticed you made some friends earlier, that's really good. Sue wanted me to let you know about the schedule for the next few days. We'll keep running through the night, but tomorrow morning we'll reach Bootcamp."

"Bootcamp?"

Schuester's brow furrowed. "I thought we discussed Bootcamp at dinner before? Oh, well Bootcamp is just a way to prepare a new show. We've been running the last one for too long. We need new material from everyone. We're headed back for the big Eastern cities in a few months, that's where the critics and the papers will come to see us."

"So everyone comes up with a new act to do?"

"Exactly. We can't keep doing the same show forever, you know. So they pitch us their ideas. If we like them, they get two days to rehearse and then they come back and show us. We usually bring in a few people to test it out, you know, a little screening. If the act's a hit, we add it to the show."

"What happens if the act isn't a hit?"

Schuester played with his cap to avoid her eyes. "If the new act's a flop, we pull it. Listen, kid, you either make it or you don't. Now, _you_…you got nothing to worry about. You already showed us all we need to see at your audition, that's why we signed you on right away. But these others…it's sink or swim in this business, Rachel. You've gotta wow us or pack your bags. It's not uncommon for us to get rid of performers that have been with us for several shows. If they've got nothing new and good to offer, we can't let them stay, you see? It's business. Surely you understand."

"Of course." She nodded, a sick feeling settling into her stomach. "The show must go on."

He smiled. "Yes. Yes, that's the ticket, right there. The show must go on. You're very smart."

"Thank you, sir. What should I do tomorrow? At Bootcamp?"

"Well, first off, you can drop that sir nonsense. I'm your boss, but I'm also your friend, alright? Call me Will, or at least Schue. No more sir. Makes me feel too military, you know? My father was the war man, not me. But to answer your question, tomorrow is a big day for these guys. It'd be best to stay out of their way, being the new kid who already has a spot in the next show and whatnot. For everyone else, it's Judgment Day."

"What exactly'll happen over the next few days?"

"We'll stop at the station, stock up on supplies, eat some breakfast, then head over to the Plucky Theater. It's just a small town place, far from the eyes of any competition, see. We'll set up there for the next few days, come back to the train to sleep of course. We'll hear the new ideas, approve of some, hate some others, but by the end of the day, if someone doesn't have an act that we want to see, this is the end of the line for them. Then we'll spend two days with everyone rehearsing, including you, and we'll come up with the song we want you to sing, don't worry about that. Then, on the last day, everyone'll show up ready to go. We'll see all the acts and decide what we want in the show and what we don't. Then we'll have everyone do a run through, to see how the show is on time. If we have to, we'll change it. Trim something out of one act, add something to another, we always figure it out. One time we had to cut out an entire act. Boy, that set off a real fight. Got a black eye that time. Anyway, we'll run the show and then at dinner me and Sue will decide how we want the final line up to go. That night, we run the final show. If we love it, we move on and start playing it as soon as possible. If we're not satisfied, we do it all over again. But we've only done that once, it's a real stressful thing."

"Sounds very stressful."

"This isn't an easy business, Rachel." Schue placed his cap on his head. "But it's worth it. Every drop of blood, sweat, and tears is worth it. I wouldn't want to be doing anything else. If the people on this train are worthy of being on it, they'll prove it tomorrow. Goodnight, try and get plenty of rest. It's going to be a busy next few days. You're in for the ride of your life, kid."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

* * *

Rachel was abruptly awakened by someone ringing a bell at the front of the car. She sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. It was still dark outside and the train was stopped at a very rustic looking station. She changed into a nice dress, fixed up her hair, and made her way to the dining car.

Only two people were eating breakfast. One was an older stagehand who was reading a novel while he ate. He gave a polite nod to Rachel as she walked past him. The other was The Fantastic Finn's assistant, Quinn. She was watching Rachel carefully, eyeing her every step. Rachel felt too intimidated to sit near her, so she chose a seat two tables away.

The young black girl who worked on the train hurried over to her with a plate of food. Rachel thanked her as she sat it down, and the girl left quickly without a word. Rachel ate her food, fully aware that the magician's assistant was constantly looking over at her. After a while, the assistant spoke.

"You can sit with me, if you'd like."

Rachel looked at her. She was strikingly beautiful, even at dawn. The rising sun outside was hitting her face perfectly, giving her fair skin an angelic glow. The morning light shined in her bright hazel eyes. Her attractiveness alone was enough to make Rachel nervous. But, somehow, she mustered up enough courage to take her plate over to the gorgeous blonde's table.

"Thank you." Rachel said as she sat and placed her napkin back over her lap.

"Oh, it's nothing. Just a seat." She replied, poking her fork at the last few bits of her eggs. She mulled something over for a minute in her head before she said anything else. "People don't sit with me very often."

"Why not?" Rachel asked. She thought back to the previous day. At lunch and dinner, The Fantastic Finn and she had entered after everyone else had already arrived. The two had taken a table by themselves both times.

She looked straight into Rachel's eyes. Her own seemed to convey a mixture of amusement and annoyance. "Can't say for sure. But…if I had to guess…I'd say people are afraid to."

"Because of The Fantastic Finn?"

The girl smiled mischievously and looked around the dining car before crossing her arms on the table and leaning forward. "The _Fantastic _Finn, yes. He's just so _fantastic,_ isn't he? You know, you don't have to call him that. You're colleagues, despite the ridiculous pay difference. You're living on a train together now. You don't have to refer to everyone by their titles. Surely you don't use Trouty when referring to Samuel?"

"No. He told me to call him Sam, so I do." Rachel answered, more than a little taken back by the casualness of the other girl. She hadn't expected the mysterious assistant of the star magician to be so open and friendly in conversation.

"So call Finn _Finn_. And call me Quinn, for the love of God. I better not catch you ever calling me _the beautiful assistant Quinn_." She laughed quietly, earning a glance back from the stagehand man. He looked just as shocked at Quinn's behavior as Rachel felt.

"You're nothing like I thought you'd be." Rachel confessed.

Quinn smirked. "Perhaps you shouldn't assume things about other people before you get to know them. Honestly, I'm just so glad to be out of Finn's company. He's been badgering me nonstop about the Bootcamp act. You know, the crazy bastard changed his mind a month ago? We had to work out an entirely new act in _a month_. A month! Magician acts are not simply processes, they take time and practice to get just right. And it's me doing all of the stupid work. He just gets all of the credit. I'd like to see him actually do the things I do instead of just think them up in the middle of the night."

"So you start preparing for Bootcamp over a month ahead of time?" Rachel asked curiously. It made sense to her. If so much was riding on it, of course people would spend a lot of time preparing.

"Oh yes. Everyone does. As soon as you get signed for the next show, you have to start thinking about what you'll do for the next Bootcamp. But enough about that. I don't want to talk about it. We'll be living it in just a short while." Quinn's eyes narrowed. "What'd you say your name was?"

"Oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't. I'm Rachel Berry. It's nice to make your acquaintance." Rachel put out her hand and waited for Quinn to shake it. When the blonde's hand touched her own, a physical reaction that Rachel had never felt before shot through her. It was like a spark. She didn't want to let go of her warm hand.

"Same to you." She smiled. "So, where are you from?"

"Lima, Ohio." Rachel's brow furrowed. "Where we just left from?"

She laughed again. It was wonderful sound. "You'll learn that we travel so much that the names of towns and where you're at…they start to not really matter. At least, not until we stop at New York City."

"Where are you from?" Rachel asked, suddenly remembering that there was food in front of her. She had been so intrigued and surprised by Quinn that she had forgotten about breakfast.

"Depends." She sighed. "Finn would have people believe that I'm from a mysterious uncharted island in the Pacific Ocean. A dangerous place where I learned the ways of dark magic. Truth is, I'm just a girl from New York."

"Why does he want you to lie about where you're from?"

"Oh, no, he doesn't even give me the choice. Haven't you noticed? Finn monopolizes everything that he believes is his. His room, his table, his stardom, his _assistant_." Quinn bit her bottom lip in a way that made Rachel uncomfortably curious to know more about her lips. Specifically, how they might feel pressed against her own. "Finn does things his way. He's a good showman, he just doesn't know when the show ends. He lives the show. He _is _the show. You're the first person that lives on this train that I've talked to that isn't Finn or Schue in…months. Finn's always afraid my feminine chatter will give away all of our secrets. He disapproves highly of making friends. He views the people on this train as competition."

"Where is he now?"

"In his room, too nervous to eat. Oh, sorry, _concentrating too hard _to eat." She rolled her eyes. "That's what everyone's doing. And, speak of the devils, here a few of them come. I hope you'll understand that this is where we part. Have a nice day, Rachel Berry. Hopefully one day we'll be able to talk again. I've enjoyed this."

Quinn stood up and took her plate over to the dirty dishes bin. She left the dining compartment after the wave of performers finished entering it. Sam took the seat that she had been sitting in.

"Were you just talking to her?" He asked quietly while the others took their seats around them. "Was she actually talking to you?"

"Yes." Rachel shrugged away the significance and joined the conversation Mike and Tina were having.

The day went by slowly. After breakfast, the performers and stagehand crew walked from the small train station to Plucky Theater. It was a dusty place in a dusty town. Rachel spent the majority of the day sitting in the audience seats, watching all of the performers pitch their new acts to Schue, Sylvester, and their suit-wearing associates.

When Finn and Quinn came before them, Rachel could not believe what Finn was proposing.

"Now, wait here a minute." The Mustache coughed on his cigar smoke. "You say you can do _what_?"

Finn's expression took on an even darker look. "I start with a few simple tricks. Make a bird appear under a handkerchief and the like. But for my main act…I will tie up my assistant, place her in a box, stick knives through the box, and _set the box on fire_. She will reemerge from the box, free of her ropes, and completely unharmed."

The men and Sylvester looked at each other. Schue turned to Quinn. "Is it safe for you?"

"Yes." Quinn answered with a cold look. She didn't even resemble the personality that Rachel had met at breakfast. Rachel was quick to sense that when Quinn was around Finn, she was never her true self. She was merely just another piece of his illusion. "But it _is_ dangerous, something could always go wrong…"

Finn gave her a harsh glance and she stopped talking immediately. He stepped forward towards the bosses. "We are professionals. We've practiced this before. The danger is more of a spectacle than a concern, I assure you."

Rachel wondered how they had practiced tying up Quinn, stuffing her in a box, sliding knives through it, and setting the thing on fire while living on a train that only stopped to do a show where they spent their time making Quinn disappear. The bosses dismissed Finn and Quinn. After they had gone backstage again, Schue came over to Rachel and gave her the lyric sheet of the song they wanted her to sing for them in two days. She had never heard of the song before, but she would know every word by heart soon enough.

That night at dinner, Sam pointed out that everyone had made it through the first day of Bootcamp. Spirits were higher than the previous day, but the room was still tense. Pitching an idea and actually selling the act in front of an audience were two very different things.

The next day, everyone was back over at Plucky. Schue showed Rachel how to get around the back rooms. It was more space than on the train, but less private. The walls did not buffer sound whatsoever, and it was very easy to listen to what was happening in the next room over. Schue put Rachel in a dressing room, on one side were the dancers and on the other were Rory and his dog. Between the dog barking and the dancers' heels against the wooden floor, it was very had for Rachel to concentrate.

The second day was the same, only each act had scheduled times to practice on the stage. Rachel was more than thrilled to experience her first time on a real stage. The live band behind her was equally both frightening and encouraging.

The next morning, on the train at breakfast, Schue stood up and announced the lineup for the day: Rory Flanagan, the ladies of Schuester & Sylvester, Trouty and the Boys, the actors (doing a parody of another Shakespeare play), Schuester & Sylvester's Famous Four quartet, Rachel Berry, and The Fantastic Finn.

The performers and bosses sat in the audience at Plucky, accompanied by a few members from the town. Rory went first. He did a very cute act where his dog kept stealing one of the eight balls he was juggling. To get away from the dog, he jumped on to a stool. When he was done juggling and cracking jokes, he tossed the balls one at a time and had the dog catch them in the air. A ball never hit the stage throughout the entire act.

Next were "the ladies of Schuester & Sylvester". Their names, not that the audience ever cared, were Santana Lopez, Brittany Pierce, Tina Cohen-Chang, and Sugar Motta. They emerged wearing much more clothing than usual when on stage. Halfway through the act, however, that changed. Clothes started being ripped off and tossed into the air. The girls rolled and tumbled and danced around, catching articles of clothing before they hit the floor. It was graceful, sensual, and very appealing. The half-naked girls left the stage quickly once the song was over.

Trouty and the Boys were up next. The Boys, Rachel had learned, were Mike and a man named Noah Puckerman who threatened physical harm if he wasn't called Puck. They were very skilled in the art of slapstick comedy and easily had the audience in tears from laughing so hard.

The actors, known as Kurt Hummel, Artie Abrams, Blaine Anderson, and Joe Hart, went next. If someone wasn't aware that Schue and Sylvester found each of them at auditions in their hometowns, they would have thought that they were professionally trained actors. They performed a parody of _Romeo and Juliet_. Kurt was a feminine Romeo, Joe was a masculine Juliet, Blaine was a hilariously cynical Mercutio, and Artie was a wonderfully foolish Benvolio. The four were just as humorous and twice as witty as Trouty and the Boys had been. Knowledge of the play, of course, was needed to fully grasp the humor. This was the aspect that set apart the two funny acts. The comedians appealed to smaller minds, who found the upmost hilarity in violence and pain. The actors appealed to the more intellectual, who could understand the cleverness of the parodies. Yet both of the acts managed to not be hated by nearly everyone, despite their differences.

Schuester & Sylvester's Famous Four quartet took the stage after the parody. They wore matching outfits and hats, but now that Rachel knew their faces and voices better, she could tell that the Famous Four was made up of Sam, Blaine, Puck, and Kurt.

Rachel was next. She nervously walked on to the stage and up to the microphone. The band started playing and when she started singing, her nerves floated away. When she saw the shocked and awed faces in the audience of her fellow performers, she knew this was what she was meant to do. Singing was her life, there would be no going back to anything else. When the song ended, she received a standing ovation from everyone except the now backstage Finn and Quinn. Rachel felt amazing, despite the fact that the bosses seemed to be applauding each other more than her. She jumped off the stage and took her seat again, getting patted on the back as she went.

When Finn stepped on to the stage, the room became quiet. His presence, the cape, the top hat, the eye make-up, his dark expression, everything about him commanded intrigued respect. He pulled a wooden box out to the middle of the stage and introduced his beautiful assistant Quinn, who was wearing a dark dress and matching dark eye make-up. Finn did a few simple tricks, like making a bird appear under a handkerchief and correctly guessing a random townsman's card from a deck. But the main trick was what had everyone's attention. He declared that the trick was dangerous and not to be attempted by nonprofessionals. Rachel felt nervous as she watched Finn tie up Quinn's wrists and ankles, then help her into the now vertical wooden box. He asked two volunteers to come check the box for hidden doors or anything abnormal. They knocked, touched, tapped, pressed, pushed, and pulled at different parts of the box but found no way that Quinn could escape but out the way she entered. After that, Finn started shoving long knives, which were more like swords, into the box. A scream or whimper was never heard. Then Finn set the box on fire. He let it burn for nearly thirty seconds before he called to two stagehands who used fire extinguishers on it. The box was black, smoke rose from it even after the fire had been put out. Finn waved around his cape, said a few clever things, then opened the box. Quinn stepped out, completely unharmed, and waved. The audience applauded more than they had applauded for Rachel, but they stayed firmly planted in their seats. Their faces were enough to show how amazed they were. Finn bowed and led Quinn off the stage.

Shortly after, Schue announced that they were going to keep all of the acts for the show. They had everyone do their acts again, this time as a run through as if for an actual show. Everyone stayed backstage rather than in the audience, and this time everyone was in costume and make-up. Rachel was given a very pretty dress by Schue and Sylvester to wear for all future shows, and the dancers helped her with her make-up and hair. When she took the stage again, she looked like a more mature and confident her.

After the run through, they went back to the train for dinner. When they were done eating, Schue announced the official lineup for the new show. Rory would open, as always. He would get the audience to relax and settle in. The quartet would be next, then the parody, the dancers, and Trouty and the Boys. Rachel would go second to last. Finn and Quinn would close the show, which meant that they were again headlining. "WATCH THE FANTASTIC FINN SET A GIRL IN A BOX ON FIRE! ONLY AT SCHUESTER & SYLVESTER'S COMPANY SHOW. COMING TO A CITY NEAR YOU."

Everyone was happy the night Bootcamp ended. The train was back in motion, the spirits were high, the party that ensued after dinner was uproarious, the drinks were flowing. The celebration ran long into the night. Rachel had never experienced such a party before, nor had she ever gotten drunk before. She found herself saying goodnight much sooner than everyone else.

The next day was spent traveling. The company had to wait to perform the new show, anyway. Advertisements and tour dates were still being processed. Mostly everyone slept in until lunch, but a hungover Rachel ventured out for breakfast.

Once again, the dining car was almost empty. A few stagehand men were eating, and in the back sat Quinn. Only this time, Finn was with her. Rachel locked eyes with Quinn, and she waved her over. Not confident that it was a good idea, politeness overpowered caution and Rachel joined the two at their table in the back.

Finn's eyes bore into Rachel's as she sat down. His eyes looked annoyed but his face put forward a polite smile. "Good morning, Rachel. It's a pleasure to finally meet."

"To you as well, Finn." She replied, glancing over at Quinn. Her expression was unreadable.

"So." Finn tapped a large finger against the table. "Do tell, how are you finding the circus life?"

"Well, I do hope we stand a bit higher than the circus." Rachel started to smile but dropped it. Finn's stare was incredibly awkward and intimidating.

"Hardly a difference." He scowled as the black girl who worked on the train arrived with a plate for Rachel. Rachel tried to thank her but the girl rushed away. "The help here, no respect." Finn narrowed his gaze on Rachel. "You really shouldn't encourage them to expect such polite behavior. They're fulfilling their duties, no need to thank them for the little that they do, Rachel. They should be doing much, much more."

"Slavery is a thing of the past." Quinn glared at Finn. "Perhaps it would do you well to ponder why."

Finn reached across the table and grabbed Quinn's wrist. He looked livid. "Perhaps you should keep those loose lips of yours closed unless a man is telling you to open them…but you're all too familiar with that situation, aren't you." He let go of her wrist and stood up, turning to Rachel. "Excuse me, I must return to my room." He looked back at Quinn. "I'll be expecting you soon."

He left, not even bothering to take his plate to the dirty dishes bin. Quinn sat very still, but her eyes watched Rachel carefully.

"Why do you put up with that?" Rachel asked quietly, setting down her fork. Her appetite had fled as swiftly as Finn had.

"If you have to ask…" She stood and collected both her plate and Finn's. "…you've got a lot to learn about this business."

She left the dining car. Rachel stared at her food for a long time, wondering what the people on that train had done or were still doing in order to make their dreams come true. She felt sick wondering what she would do if her future stardom was in jeopardy. Suddenly, the glamorous vaudeville life on that train seemed a lot darker.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

* * *

Two weeks after Bootcamp, the train arrived in Columbus a day early. It would be the troupe's first night out on the town in months. Rachel had several offers for entertainment that evening, but she kept herself uncommitted until she could learn of Quinn's plans. She had overheard Schue personally inviting Finn to join him and the other business men at a gentlemen's club, which, she hoped, meant that Quinn would have no obligations that night.

The majority of the people going out left as soon as they were finished with their dinner. Rachel had eaten as slowly as she could, telling the ones that asked that she might catch up with them later. When the dining car was finally empty, to the point that the help had arrived to clean the tables and collect the dirty dishes bin, Rachel went to Quinn's rooming compartment.

Nervously, she tapped on the door. At first, Rachel thought that maybe Quinn had gone out after all, but eventually the door slid open. Quinn smiled when she saw her.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of this pleasant surprise?" She stepped aside so that Rachel could enter the small compartment. She slid the door shut behind her and locked it. Rachel took a seat on a small stool that was between the bed and dresser. Quinn sat cross-legged on the bed, watching Rachel carefully as she looked over the blonde's possessions that were scattered across the dresser top.

"I hope you don't mind my stopping by. Oh my, this…this is beautiful." Rachel said, delicately picking up a pearl necklace that had been haphazardly dangling off the dresser. When she didn't get a response, Rachel glanced back at Quinn. Her eyes were distant, like she wasn't even in the same room anymore. Rachel cleared her throat and Quinn blinked out of her daydream.

"Oh…yes." She shook her head. "It was a gift from my mother."

Rachel set the pearls carefully on the dresser and smiled. "I've never touched something so valuable before."

"My dear, dear, Rachel, if you believe pearls hold a higher value than that of the spotlight, why do you call yourself a performer?" Quinn smirked. "I'm only teasing you, but really, a necklace is the least of my dreams."

"Then what is your biggest dream, if I may ask?" Rachel questioned, noticing that the candles in the room gave Quinn's hazel eyes a mysterious flickering shine. And as the shadows danced across her, Rachel couldn't help but wonder what that beautiful pale skin would feel like under her fingertips.

"As a young girl, I would answer fame. Perhaps even last year, I may have said the stage. But lately…I'm not so sure." Quinn bit her bottom lip. "What about you? What did you dream of as a child?"

"Singing. I've always wanted to sing. Performing is the only dream I've ever had. My father always supported me, but he never thought I would get a chance like this."

"And your mother? What did she think?"

"She ran off a long time ago with another man."

"Well that's a touch of bad luck, isn't it?"

"It was for the best."

"Did your father find another wife?"

"No, but he did find love."

"Not too fond of marriage after a blow like that, I suppose."

"It's a difficult situation. He would marry, if he could."

"Oh. Oh, is she…is she already married to another man?"

"No! No, it's nothing like that."

Quinn narrowed her eyes. "It's none of my business, and I apologize for prying, but you_ do_ have my curiosity high."

"It's a bit of a secret. I don't think it should have to be, but I can't afford any gossip. You understand, I'm sure." Rachel sighed.

"Of course." Quinn nodded, throwing in a breathtaking smile. "You're not the only one with secrets, Rachel Berry."

"Says the woman who can disappear, survive being stabbed by swords, and be completely unaffected by flames and smoke." Rachel grinned. "No matter what the secrets are, you are very talented."

Quinn rolled her eyes. "As an assistant."

"Is there another act you would rather be in?" As she asked the question, Rachel knew that a personality like Quinn's would never truly want to be sidekick. Of course she would want to be more than an assistant who does all the work and gets none of the credit.

"I auditioned to be a singer, but the ones in charge thought that _my beauty _could be put to more use than my voice. They introduced me to Finn, and that was that. He showed me the tricks he could do, nearly charmed the dress off of me…and by the end of day, I sold my soul over to the company with one signature on a dotted line. I had nothing to leave behind, but it felt like I gave up everything that day. Every…potential plan, you know? Anyway, Finn was a real charmer back then so I didn't know what I had gotten myself into until we boarded the train. That first night…I'll forget it. He came into my room…this room, and he put his hand on my shoulder and sat on my bed and he told me that things were going to be different. That _we _had to be different. He made it very clear that I wasn't allowed to talk to the other performers, socializing meant betrayal to him. He was determined to make his place, and he certainly did. But we paid a price to get to where we are."

"What did you do?" Rachel asked quietly.

Quinn frowned, as if she had just realized how much she had revealed. "I meant hard work, that's all. Honestly, the look on your face…you'd think we killed someone."

"Murder is something I can see Finn being capable of." Rachel admitted cautiously. She was certain that Finn had thrown people under the bus, or rather train, to get ahead in the company.

"He's a horrible person when competition is on his mind." Quinn nodded. "But when he's not focusing on being better than everyone else…he has the potential to be a gentlemen, when he wants to be one."

"But isn't that just human nature? We all have the ability to be a decent person, some of us just choose to not be."

"I don't think some of us have that choice. Some of us have the option taken away, the choice is made for us."

"No, there is always a choice. Doing what is right…it's always a choice."

"Agree to disagree, then." Quinn crossed her arms. "You're quite the little debater, aren't you?"

"Little?" Rachel grinned. "I'm hardly a year younger than you."

"And as so, I am your superior." Quinn smirked. "Not to mention the fact that I've been here longer."

"Are you going somewhere with this seniority spiel?" Rachel laughed.

Quinn reached over and pushed Rachel's arm playfully. "Respect your elders, child."

"You are delusional, Miss Fabray, I hope you are aware of that." Rachel gave a push back, having to move to sit next to Quinn on the cot to do so.

"I must say, your idea of flattery is a little off. Perhaps you should stick to singing. Do you even have any other talents or is that all you can do?" Quinn laughed.

"Oh, very _mature_, your royal highness." Rachel laughed with her.

"Now _there's _a title I could get used to. No more of that beautiful assistant nonsense."

"It must nice, though. To be called beautiful by everyone. And it's true, Quinn, you are very beautiful. It was the first thing I noticed about you, honestly, but I'm so glad that I've had the chance to get to know you. Sometimes beauty is only on the surface, but I don't think that's the case with you."

The smile that snuck on to Quinn's lips was the most honest expression that Rachel had ever seen. It was so pure, so natural, so unintended, that it struck against Rachel's heartstrings and played a beautiful melody inside her. It was almost as if she _feel _who Quinn really was. And when Quinn reached over and brushed a few loose strands of hair behind her ear, Rachel felt her body tingle, like her nerves were dancing with excitement.

Quinn placed her hands in her lap and looked sheepishly down at them, that smile still showing. "I've never met anyone that I've been this comfortable around. It's strange. I've been so antisocial for so long that I've forgotten what it's like to be myself. I might've even been forgetting who I really am."

"You can always be yourself around me. So far, I really like who are." Rachel took Quinn's hand and held it.

Quinn's smile fell. "I keep thinking…that if Finn only knew about our friendship…he would not approve."

"I've been wanting to ask if he did anything after that morning that I sat at your table for breakfast?"

"I haven't received a lecture like that since I was living with my parents."

"Did you often get lectured by them?"

"Oh yes. I was quite the rebel in my youth."

"You are still in your youth."

"Oh shush, it sounds much classier to say _in my youth_."

"Tell me a story."

"No, I don't want to bore you with old tales."

"Please? I'd love to hear about your rebel past."

"Alright, well, I do have a few stories. Mostly of me sneaking out."

"Tell me about the first time."

"I don't think you want to hear that one."

"No, I do. We've got all night to spend sharing stories."

"Well, alright. I was thirteen the first time I snuck out."

"What business does a thirteen year-old girl have at night?"

"It was Jeremiah Wilkins' eighteenth birthday party. He was my next door neighbor. My father detested him like no other. Jeremiah was very handsome and very popular, always hosting loud poker games and entertaining friends late at night. My father always told me that boys like that were never any good. But, unknown to my parents, I was decent friends with him. The party was being hosted in his backyard, I didn't have to travel but over a fence. I wore my best Sunday dress, and I had spent all afternoon styling my hair and wrapping his present and practicing the way I said happy birthday. I may have had the slightest liking for him. Anyway, when my parents went to bed, I slipped out my bedroom window, hopped the fence, and there I was. I had never been to a party before. It seemed like every older kid in the neighborhood was there. Probably was. There were kids everywhere. Mr. and Mrs. Wilkins weren't around, so they had broken into the liquor cabinet. It wasn't much, but it was enough to satisfy a yard of kids. Jeremiah found me before I found him. I gave him his present, just a candy. That's all my twelve year-old self could offer. He was very grateful, or at least he pretended to be. He said he was very glad I came, and told me that I better not drink any liquor. He even danced with me for a while. We hadn't been dancing long before my father came running into the yard. He was yelling at kids left and right, scaring every us all half to death. He ran right up to me, slapped me across the face in front of everyone, and started yelling at Jeremiah for being too loud and letting me be there. He dragged me home, lectured me good and hard about boys and parties and sneaking out, and whipped me with his belt until I couldn't even feel the pain anymore. When Mr. and Mrs. Wilkins came home the next day, my father told them about the party and about me being there. Mr. Wilkins was so upset about getting yelled at by my father and about them drinking all his liquor that he beat Jeremiah dead. I never got to say I was sorry for ruining his birthday, but every time I passed his grave, I said a little prayer for him. He was good boy, he never hurt anyone. He didn't deserve to die so young. I remember when my father came and talked to me about it. He said it was nobody's fault but Mr. Wilkins, but that he glad we'd finally get some peace and quiet at night. No more Jeremiah, no more parties. It was right then and there that I told myself I'd never grow up to be like my father. He was a man who followed rules, so I became a rule breaker. I snuck out more and more, got better at it. I got involved when some mean kids, some goons that vandalized for fun. I was a bad kid, but I was ambitious. I knew I couldn't hang around with that type if I wanted to make it to first class. I stopped being friends with them for good after what they did when I was sixteen."

"What happened? What'd they do?"

Quinn looked hesitant and, oddly enough, shy. "There were six of us. Myself, Johnny, Rob, Margaret, James, and Ben. We all lived in the same neighborhood. Johnny and Rob were two brothers out of a family of fourteen, Margaret's dad was an immigrant, James was slow in the head, and Ben's grandmother was a negro slave. We were the outcasts."

"You were an outcast?" Rachel asked curiously.

"I ruined Jeremiah's birthday, which ended in his father beating him to death. I wasn't very popular, no. But the others, they let me tag along with them. They were all older than me, but not by much. More experienced, smarter, stronger, taller, faster…even in a group of outcasts, I was still inferior."

"What did they do to lose your friendship?"

"Two weeks after my sixteenth birthday, they robbed a candy shop. Said it was to get me gifts for my birthday. They showed up at my house with all of these wonderful candies the next day, and my father was awful suspicious. He went out for a few hours, long enough to hear about the candy shop break-in. When he got home, he started yelling at us. He thought I was involved with it, thought I had been there with them and helped steal. They tried to explain that I didn't do anything, but he thought they were protecting me. When he started to whip me, they got furious. Johnny or Rob, I never knew which, pulled out a gun and shot him in the head. There was blood everywhere. All over me and the walls and the floor. My mother ran into the room and started crying. The others…they ran out, already talking plans about leaving the city."

"Did they?"

"Johnny and Rob left. Went west somewhere. Margaret and Ben didn't have the gun or pull the trigger, so there wasn't much the police could do to them. But since they were both non-white, they got all of the charges for the candy shop break-in. Since James was slow in the head, they let him go. He had a fit or something a few months after anyway. Died just outside his house."

"I've never had someone I know die." Rachel admitted quietly. "It must be so hard."

"It was." Quinn nodded, glancing up at her. "Still is, sometimes. I try not to think about the past, though. If can't be changed, there's no point."

Rachel spontaneously pulled Quinn into a hug on the cot. "Thank you for sharing with me, Quinn."

"It's nothing, really." Quinn shrugged as the embrace ended. Their faces lingered close together. For a moment, Rachel was nearly overwhelmed with the urge to lean in for a kiss. And for a moment, Quinn was punched with the realization that she wanted her to.

"What about you?" Quinn asked, staying her ground despite how much tension their closeness was causing. "Any depressing stories to share?"

"I didn't have friends. I spent my time auditioning, learning new music, or working in my father's shop below our apartment." Rachel answered, struggling to keep her voice steady. She didn't want Quinn to know just how much she was affected by the situation at hand.

"No friends? No one to share secrets or get into trouble with?" Quinn cocked an eyebrow.

"Well, I suppose I've got you for that now." Rachel grinned.

"Getting into trouble is something I'm quite good at." Quinn replied, her voice growing more sultry with every word.

"You'll have to teach me." Rachel's grin fell. It was becoming hard to keep her distance from Quinn. All she could think about was pressing her lips against the beautiful girl in front of her.

"What's happening right now, you know it's strange, don't you?" Quinn asked, her eyes on Rachel's lips.

"I must confess, I've never been the conventional type." Rachel answered quietly, the gap between them closing extremely slowly but ever increasingly.

"This shouldn't be happening." Quinn whispered. "I don't even know how to explain what is happening."

"Maybe that's a good thing." Rachel whispered just before her lips briefly touched Quinn's. The moment contact was made, Quinn turned away and gasped.

"This isn't right." Quinn whispered, avoiding Rachel's eyes. "We're two women, what are we doing? How is this even happening?"

"This sort of thing happens. I've seen it, with two men." Rachel answered just as quietly.

Quinn looked harshly at Rachel. "Rachel, men die for being together. When I was younger, a man who worked with my father was found beaten, naked, and chained to his own front door and it was because people had discovered his relationship to another man who ran off because he knew better. It's not natural, it's wrong. There's something wrong with the people who do such things."

"My father is like this." Rachel said defensively. "He and his business partner are in love. They raised me, two fathers instead of one. There is nothing wrong or disgusting about them. Their love for each other is the most honest thing I've ever seen. They know what could happen if people found out, so keep their love a secret. They hide who they are, but they are together and happy."

Quinn was dumfounded. She stared at Rachel like she had never seen her before. "Well, you were obviously raised to be accepting of this type of thing."

"Just like you were raised to not be accepting. I believe love is more important than the two people it's between." Rachel reached for Quinn's hand, slightly surprised when Quinn let her hold it.

"I don't know what to think right now." She whispered, her bottom lip trembling. "For Christ's sake, I nearly just met you. Why is this happening? We've got such an opportunity here, why are we risking it? This is why Finn told me not to talk to anyone. Maybe he knew this would happen. I don't know how, this has never happened before. I didn't even know this could happen between two women. Why am I so drawn to you? Why do I feel the need to be close to you and talk to you and kiss you?"

"I want to kiss you too." Rachel answered. They looked at each other in the dark candlelit compartment, and just as quickly as the flames could flicker, Quinn leaned forward and pressed her lips against Rachel's. Just as quickly, the kiss ended.

"I don't want to do this." Quinn whispered against her lips. "This shouldn't be happening."

"It's okay." Rachel cupped her face and delicately kissed her again. "You can stop it any time you like."

"That's the thing…I don't want it to stop." A single tear rolled down her cheek as she leaned away and covered her mouth.

"Do you want me to leave?" Rachel asked.

It was a full minute before Quinn nodded her head. Rachel swallowed back her disappointment and stood.

"Will you still talk to me after this?" She asked, her hand already on the door.

Quinn looked up at her. "I don't know. I don't know anything at the moment. I'm so confused with everything that's just happened. I need time to think. A lot of time."

"I can give you that." Rachel slid open the door and left without another word.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

On the opening night of the new show, Rachel was nearly sick with nerves. Sylvester's encouraging shouts to the bustling performers backstage were not very calming, nor were they very encouraging.

"C'mon, people! We got a show to do! Quit you're lollygagging. There is a person in every seat out there, and I better not see a damn one yawning or checking their pocket watch. Lopez, it's lipstick, not cocaine, let's speed it up a little! And you! El Senior Mouth of Trout, wipe that dumb grin off your face, boy. We're running a serious business here. What are you looking at, Lee Ching? We're not paying you to sit around and stare! Watch where you're going, Irish man, and your little pooch is taking a _not so little_ shit on a_ very_ expensive carpet! Has anyone seen Schuester? Hey! Hey, you! Get off of that, you break it and I'll break something of yours, is that clear? And Jesus Christ Almighty, Newgirl, what is wrong with your face? Please, tell me it doesn't always look like that."

Rachel rushed to a mirror. Unfortunately, she looked as sick as she felt.

"Rachel, you don't look too well." Tina said as she ran past her.

Trying to hold down her dinner, Rachel sat down on a stool and took a few deep breaths. She closed her eyes and tried to compose herself. In the distance, she could hear Sylvester yelling at Puck for running into her. She tried to block out the chaos around her and took even slower breaths. She thought about her fathers, about how much this opportunity meant to them and to her. Unfortunately, the mental reminder backfired and only added homesickness on top of the heaps of worry and nerves.

"Are you okay?"

Rachel's eyes flew open and she turned to see Quinn standing a few feet away and looking very intimidating in her dark make-up. If it had not been for the obvious concern in her voice, Rachel would have thought Quinn was angry. Then she saw him. He wasn't too far behind her, standing in the shadows. His eyes glistened darkly as he glared at Rachel. She was starting to learn that creepiness was definitely one of Finn's specialties.

"Yes." Rachel nodded, clearing her throat. She wouldn't let Finn know that she was more nervous than she had ever been before in her entire life. Weakness was not an option. "Just trying to focus in this mess, that's all."

"Right." Quinn nodded, deciding to look anywhere but Rachel's eyes. "Well, good luck to you. It's going to be a good show. I…I know you'll be great."

In two quick steps, Finn was at Quinn's side. "I'm feeling quite parched. Quinn, be a dear and fetch me a glass of water?"

Quinn left just as quickly as Finn had arrived. He turned to Rachel, removed his top hat, and bowed. "Good evening, Rachel. It's a fine night for a show, isn't it?"

Suspicious of Finn's intentions, Rachel chose her words carefully. "Indeed, it is. I must ask though, to what do I owe the pleasure of your attention?"

Finn smirked and stepped closer, towering over Rachel as she sat as still as she could. He reached out a hand and tilted her chin up. "A beautiful girl like you shouldn't have to question why a man would give her his attention." His hand and smirk fell in sync. "But _I _must ask that you not distract Quinn with your…girl talk."

"_She _asked me how I was—"

"No. No, I meant on the train. Or don't you remember your little visit to her compartment last night?"

Rachel's stomach fell. "She told you?"

"Of course not." Finn checked over his shoulder before leaning closer to her. "But I see all."

"Well, if you—"

"No, no. Explanations are not necessary. I don't care what the pair of you discussed. I simply want you to know that if it ever happens again…well, let's just say the consequences will not be pleasing to anyone."

Rachel swallowed hard and stood up, Finn's height leaving her in his shadow. "I am not afraid of you, Finn Hudson."

"That's your fault to have." He whispered as the clicking of Quinn's heels approached them.

"Here." Quinn's voice was low and cold. She handed both him and Rachel glasses half filled with water.

"Thank you." Rachel said as she took her glass. Finn was not nearly as polite. He took the glass, emptied it with one gulp, and handed it back to her while placing his top hat on his head. With one last glare, he turned on his heels and walked away.

"What did he say to you?" Quinn asked quietly despite his absence.

"He was only attempting to unsettle me." Rachel shrugged, sipping on the water. The coldness sickly traveled down her throat and fell into her churning stomach.

"Well…" Quinn cautiously looked around, even though many of the other performers had already left the area they were in. "…are you still okay then?"

Rachel took a moment to analyze how she felt. She smiled and answered, "If anything, I feel more determined than ever."

"That's good." Quinn nodded, her bottom lip finding its way between her teeth while she struggled to say more. "Rachel…"

"Yes?" She asked hopefully.

Quinn shook her head. "Have a good show, yeah?"

"Of course. You too." Rachel nodded. She watched her leave, all the while wanting to chase after her.

The show received wonderful reviews, especially Finn's flaming box act. They did a second show in Columbus before heading on to the next city. For two weeks they received the same great feedback, always pulling off each act flawlessly. But of course, trouble was inevitable.

A flu found its way on to the train, leaving three fourths of it bedridden and miserable on the three day trip to Kentucky. Rachel managed to stay healthy, but her chosen table for meals was not so lucky. She ate alone, but on the third day, she decided to make a new friend.

Rachel stayed in the dining car long after Breakfast was over. The young black girl who delivered food arrived and apologized for her presence as she collected the dirty dishes bin.

"That's nonsense, never apologize for doing your job." Rachel smiled as friendly as she could. "Speaking of your job…do you think you could give me a tour of the kitchens? I've always wondered what it's like in there."

The girl looked shocked, absolutely appalled at what she was hearing. "Ma'am, I'm sorry, no one but the help is supposed to be back there. It's the rules."

"Let's talk here then. Go ahead, take a seat." Rachel gestured to the seat across from her.

The girl stared at her. "I…I don' understand, ma'am."

"Humor me, please. Sit." Rachel smiled invitingly.

The girl looked around cautiously. She sat down the bin on the table and wiped her hands on her already dirty apron. She took the seat, watching Rachel curiously.

"Why?" She asked.

"I want to get to know you." Rachel offered her hand. "My name is Rachel Berry."

The girl stared at her hand for an awkward amount of time. Finally, she shook it. Her hand was sweaty and trembling. "Mercedes Jones."

"Mercedes." Rachel's eyebrows rose. "What a pretty name."

"Thank you, Miss Rachel." She replied, checking around the room again.

"Where are you from?" Rachel asked.

"I don' remember the name of the town, but I think it was a little place in North Carolina."

"You think?"

"I don' remember, ma'am."

"You don't have to call me ma'am. But, well I have to ask, how do you not remember where you were born?"

"I didn' live there. Born there, taken to some other state, put to work when I was twelve, been working on trains ever since."

"What about your parents?"

Mercedes's eyes narrowed. "You ain' met many black folks workin' as help, have ya?"

"No." Rachel admitted. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to come across as ignorant or anything. I'm curious, that's all."

"Well, I ain' never met my daddy and my momma put me on a train when I was twelve. There ain' much to that story."

"Why a train?"

"Jobs ain' for the picky when ya skin is dark."

"If you could be doing something different…what would you be doing?"

A softness fell over Mercedes. She smiled, but it was full of longing and sadness. "Truth be told, Miss Rachel, I'd be on that stage with ya'll. Just a singin' and a dancin' till my heart gave out. That's what I'd be doin'. None of this cleanin' up after ya'll, no ma'am, I'd be in that spotlight…and shinin' so bright. But I gave up on that dream a long time ago. 'Bout the time my momma told me that if one of her kids was ever goin' to get white folks to see them as anythin' but black…it wasn' gonna be me."

"Why would she say that?"

"Miss Rachel, black girls grow up fast." Her jaw clenched and her brows furrowed. "It's a momma's job to prepare her babies for the world. When ya black, ya get faced with the truth young."

"I feel…terrible."

"Ain' no good for you to feel bad, Miss Rachel. Ya can' help the color of ya skin."

"I wish there was something I could do."

Mercedes smiled, a genuine smile. "You done more for me right here than any nonblack folk ever done for me."

"You deserve so much more." Rachel sighed. "And not just you, Mercedes, all colored people. Skin color should not make you less of a person in someone else's eyes. I pray that one day the world will see what I see when I look at you: a beautiful girl full of potential."

She smiled bashfully and stood. "I need to get back to work, but…you feel free to talk to me anytime, Miss Rachel. You alright."

Rachel walked back to her compartment, but didn't make it into the room. She strongly wanted to visit Quinn and check on her health. Finn's threat had kept her distant from the blonde, but she was beginning to doubt his ability to really "see all" and her desire to make sure Quinn was okay won out.

She knocked lightly on Quinn's compartment door in case she was sleeping. A weak "come in" was the only reply. Rachel slid open the door and shut it behind her, taking the time to lock it. Quinn was under a blanket, her eyes shut tight. She peaked one of them open. The moment that she realized it was Rachel who had come to see her, her expression changed.

A relieved smile crossed her lips and she threw the blanket off of her, sitting up and making room so that Rachel could join her. "I thought you might've been Schue."

"You seem…not very sick." Rachel noted, taking the offered seat on the bed.

"I'm not." Quinn smirked.

"And feigning illness helps you how?" Rachel raised a quizzical eyebrow.

Quinn covered her mouth to stifle her laugh. "It gives me an excuse to stay in here and avoid people."

"Is it safe to assume that you mean Finn?"

"You could assume that."

"Would I be wrong?"

"You could be."

"But I'm not."

"You heard nothing of it from me."

The two laughed and for the first time weeks, the air was comfortable between them.

"I talked to Mercedes just now."

"Who?"

"She's the girl that brings us our plates."

"Mercedes…what a beautiful name."

"I said the very same."

"Did you."

"I did."

"And?"

"And it is indeed a beautiful name?"

"No, what of your conversation?" Quinn smiled.

"Oh." Rachel smiled. "I asked her to sit and talk. She was hesitant, but, as I am quite persuasive, she eventually complied. She's quite the conversationalist, but alas, it ended all too soon when her duty called."

"Your vocabulary never ceases to impress."

"Impress how?"

"You have a very…romantic way of speaking."

"Oh, my dear Quinn, don't tell me that you are capable of being wooed by _a girl_."

Quinn bit her bottom lip before saying, "Well…you are _quite persuasive_, as you put it."

Rachel leaned in closer to her and whispered, "I'm fairly certain that persuasion has little affect when it comes to attraction."

"Attraction is nothing if not a mystery to me." Quinn answered, her eyes falling to Rachel's lips.

"If you'd let me…I would be more than happy to help clear things up for you."

"I don't know if you could help…or make things worse."

"There's only one way of finding out." Rachel edged closer, but waited. She wanted Quinn to make the move.

"This isn't—"

"No, don't tell me what this is or what this isn't when you and I both know that there is not a soul on this Earth that can predict what this could or could not become."

"You make it sound like we're not doing something that could ruin our lives." Quinn bit her lip.

"You make it sound like we're doing something that deserves to be judged." Rachel replied.

"I don't know what we're doing." Quinn shook her head.

"I know what I wish we were doing." Rachel looked deep into the hazel eyes of the girl that was so close yet so far.

"This is dangerous, Rachel. You know that."

"I do. But I also know that I've never wanted someone so badly before."

"Would you give up your chance to be on Broadway to kiss a girl you hardly just met?"

Rachel's reply was caught in her throat. She knew the answer would be no. Nothing could stop her from wanting to sing on Broadway. Absolutely nothing.

"Your silence…" Quinn leaned away. "…says a lot more than any romantic phrase you could string together."

"Why does it have to be such a big deal?"

"You always question why, but you never accept the answers. We can't do this. Neither of us is willing to give up everything we've worked for. The sooner you realize that, the faster we'll get through whatever this is."

"It's not fair."

"Welcome to life, Rachel." Quinn looked at the floor. "Everyone else left their romantic views of the world at home, and that's exactly where you'll be headed if you don't give it up too."

With tears brimming her eyes, Rachel stood and unlocked the door. As she slid it open, she turned and said, "Things can change."

Quinn gave her a sympathetic smile and shook her head. "No. They can't. At some point you're going to have to accept reality."

Rachel shut the door behind her and went straight to her compartment. She stayed there through lunch, holding back tears for most the day. More than anything, she wanted to ask her fathers for advice. Surely they of all people would know what to do.

Rachel emerged for dinner, but it contained even less people than breakfast had. She didn't have to wait long for the dining car to empty and for Mercedes to arrive.

"You don' look too well, Miss Rachel." She said as she picked up the dirty dishes bin. "You might be catchin' this nasty flu. Need to drink ya lots of water. Do ya good, some water will."

"It's not the flu." Rachel sighed. Mercedes checked around the room and sat down across from her.

"Mind if I ask what's botherin' ya?"

"Let's just call it…unrequited love."

"Ah." Mercedes chuckled. "That would be the only thing that could be wrong for ya, wouldn' it? Got ya perfect job, ya perfect looks, ya perfect voice, ya perfect life…gotta throw in some unrequited love to have somethin' to mope 'bout."

"My life is far from perfect, but I understand what you mean. It's just…it feels a lot more complicated than that. Surely at some point in your life you've taken interest in someone you can never have."

Mercedes checked over her shoulder and leaned in closer. "Well…Mister Sam certainly is easy on the eyes. And the way that boy looks at me, mmm….makes a girl get those butterfly feelings. I guess I ain' one to be teasin' ya. That's a mighty rough feelin', yes ma'am."

"Sam?" Rachel smiled. "Fancy yourself some Trouty Mouth?"

Mercedes giggled. "You ain' gonna tell him?"

"Oh no, of course not. A true friend would never gossip like that." Rachel laughed.

"A true friend." Mercedes smiled softly. "I ain' got many of those."

"Well count me as one." Rachel smiled. "I can tell this is going to be a good friendship."

"You a nice lady, Miss Rachel." Mercedes nodded to herself.

"How old are you?"

"Around eighteen."

"Since you are the elder, you may not call me a lady."

"Well, look who put on her bossy shoes." Mercedes laughed. She had a loud, wonderful laugh. "Well now that ya got me all curious and spillin' my own secrets, who is the man dumb enough to not want him some Rachel Berry?"

Rachel's smile fell and Mercedes immediately began to apologize but Rachel cut her off. "No, no. It's a fair question. I just don't think you'll want to know the answer."

"It ain' Mister Schuester, is it?" She whispered mischievously.

"Oh, good grief, no. Well, it'd certainly be easier if it were."

"Easier? What could be worse than takin' a likin' to ya boss? 'Specially on this train?"

Rachel was more concerned about how she would react rather than if she would tell anyone. Honestly though, even if she did tell someone, who count a member of the help as more credible than one of the performers? She was dying to talk to someone about her feelings, so decided to risk it.

"Quinn." Rachel whispered. Her name tasted wonderful on her lips. She was almost compelled to say her name again but the look of confusion that fell on Mercedes's face made her cheeks turn red in anxious embarrassment. She was going to have to explain something she hardly understood herself. "I like Quinn Fabray."

Mercedes said nothing and Rachel felt regret constricting her throat so that she too could not find her voice. Finally, Mercedes shook her head and said, "You mean that assistant to that God awful magician man?"

"She's not like him. She's different. She's nice." Rachel defended.

"Well, I can' say I was expectin' that answer but love ain' a thing to question or to fight with, that's what my momma would say."

"So…you're okay with this?"

"It ain' my business to not be okay with, now is it? I ain' gonna get all upset 'cause you be likin' a girl. What good would that do for me? Ain' a thing anyone can do 'bout that."

"That's what I tried to tell Quinn, but she doesn't see it that way. She's too worried about what would happen if people found out. She's afraid we'll lose our jobs."

"Miss Rachel, people get awful worried 'bout what other people do in their private times." Mercedes sighed.

"But why? Why should it matter?"

"People got to have somethin' to worry 'bout. Ain' got a thing in ya own life? Gotta worry 'bout someone else's. That's just the way the world works. The way humans work."

"But everyone has their own problems. Everyone has something they worry about, don't they?"

"Some people got so much goin' for them, they let their minds make stuff up. Now I ain' sayin' you makin' up your likin' of Miss Quinn, that's ya business and I ain' gettin' into it. But I do think that some people just need things to worry 'bout. I seen Mister Schuester get all worked up 'cause his shoes ain' be matchin' his outfit. I tell ya right now, Miss Rachel, one of them bosses catch ya doin' anything that people look down on like that…ya gonna find both you and Miss Quinn gettin' off at the next stop. That's a mighty secret ya'd be keepin', yes ma'am."

"Mercedes…how'd you get to be so wonderful?"

Mercedes stood and gave a sad smile. "They don' call me Help for nothin'."

Rachel went back to her compartment that night feeling better. Talking to someone, especially someone she could trust and was beginning to really enjoy the company of, had taken the edge off of the rejection Quinn had left her with. She had a lot of thinking ahead of her. Would she be willing to take the risk to be with Quinn in secret? Would Quinn even consider? Should she stay away?

Surely her place at Schuester & Sylvester meant more to her than potential love from Quinn, right?

Surely.

Right?


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

* * *

The Kentucky show was horrible. The flu had done a number on the majority of the performers and crew, affecting all acts except the final two. Rory had mishaps while juggling, the quartet's harmonies were off, the parody was filled with coughing and throat clearing, the dancers were out of sync, Trouty and the Boys managed to play off a nasty fall on stage by Puck as part of the act, the band was off beat, and the crew had trouble keeping the spotlights on everyone. Schue was fairly reasonable and understanding but Sylvester was beside herself with anger. Back on the train that night, they were told to gather in the dining car.

Once everyone was seated, Sylvester moved to the front of the car. Silence was instantaneous. Though no one admitted to liking her, nearly everyone respected her. Whether that respect was out of fear or reverence, is entirely debatable.

Sylvester glared indiscriminately at the faces anxiously watching her. With scowl on her thin lips, she began. "I am utterly disgusted by what I have been forced to endure tonight. That was without a doubt the worst show that Schuester & Sylvester has ever had the displeasure of doing. How could you possibly let something like this happen? Every show counts, even the ones in the middle-of-fucking-nowhere-Kentucky. I don't want to ever be associated with such garbage ever again. Tonight's show disgraces the company, it lowers the respectability of each and every one of you, and it tarnishes the names Schuester and Sylvester. You should all feel repulsed at what you have let happen out there tonight. Blame sickness all you want, I don't give a goddamn fuck about some goddamn flu. You know what I care about? Audiences! Reviews! Critics! An honorable piece of outstanding entertainment! This company! And above all: myself. I am harsh, I am merciless, but I am honest. And from the bottom of my heart, with the most sincerity that I can possibly offer, I am telling all of you that tonight's show will forever be remembered by me as one of the worst nights of my life. You not only embarrassed yourselves, you embarrassed me and you embarrassed William. If tonight ever replays itself, you will all feel the consequences. I don't care what the cost…you will feel my disappointment and anger. And I believe it is necessary to provide this train with a preview of that sort of repercussion. Flanagan!"

"Yes, ma'am?" Rory shot up so fast and jerkily that his chair was knocked to the ground behind him. His cheeks flushed red and his eyes grew wide with panicky fear.

"You're fired." Sylvester said emotionlessly.

The color quickly drained from Rory's face. He tried to say something. His mouth opened and closed but words failed him. He looked like a fish on land.

"I want you, your little dog, and your circus act off this train when we stop in the morning. Is that understood?"

Rory's mouth finally halted at shut. His jaw clenched and he straightened his posture. He looked as if he were going to salute her next. With a sharp nod of acceptance, he walked around his table, through the car, passed the still expressionless Sylvester and an apologetic looking Schue, and left their sights forever. He would leave in the morning, without goodbyes. It would be rumored that Sylvester demanded he go silently, but most would know that his pride was too hurt to face the rest of them.

Rachel glanced around the room after Rory left. Sam, Mike, and Tina looked absolutely heartbroken. Kurt and Blaine were cautiously watching each other from different tables. Puck was staring very hard at his hands. Joe had his arm around a crying Sugar Motta. Brittany and Santana were holding hands, a single tear sliding down Brittany's cheek. The stagehand crew and band were incapable of taking their eyes off Sylvester, but their expressions showed their surprise. The business men stared at the cigars and drinks in their hands and nothing else. Quinn was as apathetic as ever. Finn was the only one in the room who did not seem to be bothered by the cruel event that had just occurred. Instead, a small smirk was on his lips.

Sylvester took a step forward to regain everyone's attention. "I would like to say that it pains me to do such a thing, but the truth is that it doesn't. I am completely indifferent to all of your futures. I have helped make stars, and I have been the so called wretch that has stripped innocent people of the chance of ever becoming one simply because they were an inconvenience to me. I don't give a damn if you are on this train or not, and I want you to remember that. This is the entertainment business. You will not find employer who cares about your feelings. You will not find a vaudeville troupe that will take you if we fire you or if you quit. You will not receive any pity for telling people that I or William treated you unfairly. Let's put it this way: you fucking do shit like that again and I will destroy every single one of you. I cannot be any clearer. It's this company or back to the shithole we found you in. I am not someone you want to test. If you don't understand or accept anything that I've just told you, you are free to join your Irish man in removing yourself from my sight for all eternity. But don't think that you'll find another way to the top…because you won't. We are your only hope, as you believe yourselves to be ours. But that fact of the matter is, we can find another singer, another dancer, another actor, another man with a dog who can juggle…but you cannot find another company to take you after us. Consider this as a warning. You need us, but we do not need you. Now, if I was in your shoes, I wouldn't be fucking up a show, now would I? You think this is dramatic and over the top? Disgrace Schuester & Sylvester one more time and I'll show you over the top."

Sylvester turned and left the dining car. Schue sighed heavily as he stood and took her place. "Guys, I hate to say it…but for the most part, she's right. We can't let this happen again. The big cities are just around the corner. Think if this had happened in New York. You can only imagine how upsetting and embarrassing something like this is. Sure, you guys are the faces of this show…but Sue and I are the names. This company—this is our dream. We hate to see it suffer. That's why we make those tough decisions. We do what is necessary to keep our dream alive. I know all of you have bigger goals than this train, don't think that I don't. I know that this is merely the first step of your journeys. But this is it for me and Sue. You guys are an amazing troupe, full of potential and talent. I know you'll go on to do other great things, but here and now…you are this company's troupe. You are a part of Schuester & Sylvester and an amazing show that has so much potential. You are a part of our dream. I need you guys to focus on the present. I need you to give your all for every show, in sickness or in health. I understand that there are certain things that one cannot avoid, but in this business there is no time for healing or for recovery. The show will go on without you if it has to. But I have faith in you. All of you. It's unfortunate that we have to say goodbye to a wonderful friend tonight…but it is necessary. Tonight will hopefully stick you with for the rest of your lives. Before every show, you should remember this night. You should remember the consequences for not doing the best that you can. I know you guys have it in you to never let us down like this again. I know it. Now it's up to you to prove it. Get some rest. We've got a long day of travelling ahead of us before tomorrow night's show. We will inform you in the morning on how we decide to do the lineup without Rory."

The next day, the troupe's morale was at an all-time low. People were upset, scared, the majority still fighting off the flu. Rory's absence was felt by most of the train._ Most_ of it.

Finn was the only one who seemed encouraged by Sylvester and Schue's lectures, rather than burdened. Sam commented that he had never seen Finn so un-sulky before. Quinn was as indifferent to the world as she usually appeared to be, but Rachel was extremely curious to know her true feelings on the situation.

At breakfast, Schue revealed the altered lineup to them. Instead of Rory being the opening act, the last minute replacement would be one of the stagehands named David Karofsky. He'd be doing one of the joke routines that he'd been pitching the bosses for years.

When it was time for lunch and everyone was making their way to the dining car, Rachel waited for Quinn to pass. She and Finn were always the last two to arrive, and as Finn's compartment was in the next car over, Rachel hoped that it would be an opportune time to talk to the blonde alone. She stood inside her compartment, leaving the door cracked just enough so that she could keep an eye on the hall outside.

When Quinn exited her own compartment down the hall, Rachel found herself smiling. For whatever reason, she was drawn to that girl. She spent most of her free time daydreaming about them having alone time together, or thinking of interesting questions to ask, or remembering how perfect their lips felt together.

But Quinn did not turn to shut the door behind her. Instead, Finn emerged next. With one hand sliding the door closed, he reached out with his other and stopped her from going ahead of him. Rachel watched as he smirked, leaned down and kissed Quinn's lips. A fiery jealous rage erupted within the pit of her stomach. Her lips trembled as they struggled to contain both the sob caught in her throat and the screams that threatened to reveal her voyeurism.

When Finn returned to his full height, a smirk was still on his face. Rachel had never met someone as smug as Finn Hudson. Quinn's back was to Rachel, so she could not see her reaction, but the casualness of the event suggested that it was not the first nor last kiss the two would share.

"Such a beautiful face." Finn said, cupping her cheek and looking down into her eyes. "I want you to remember what we've discussed."

"I will think it over." Quinn answered. Her words were so quiet that Rachel almost couldn't make them out.

"There's no time for your idle thoughts. We have but months before New York City, mere weeks before the critics in Chicago. I will not spend the end of my days on this train. We are destined for much, much more. You know this as you know what must be done. A flaming box can only consume so much of a potential employer's afterthoughts when a voice like hers is allowed to greet his ears the same evening."

He dropped his hand and began walking towards the dining car. Quinn followed wordlessly behind him. Rachel knew her intentions had not been to spy on a conversation between the two, but she felt uneasy knowing that she had unknowingly intruded on such a private moment. But not nearly as uneasy as she felt knowing that Finn and Quinn's relationship had a romantic edge to it. And nowhere near as uneasy as she felt discovering that the two discuss her possible demise in their free time.

Rachel didn't go to lunch. She waited in her compartment until all others were back in theirs. When she was sure no one else would still be eating, she went to the dining car. Mercedes was just entering to collect the dirty dishes bin when she entered.

"Good afternoon, Miss Rachel. I was wonderin' where ya were. Not like ya to miss a meal, 'specially lunch. Ya want me to get ya a plate of leftovers?"

"That would great, Mercedes, thank you."

Rachel took a seat and waited for Mercedes to return. A door slid open, but instead of it being Mercedes entering from the kitchen, it was someone coming from the rooming compartments. Rachel looked back to see Quinn shutting the door closed.

Her first reaction was to ask Quinn about the kiss with Finn, but she had to remind herself that she was not meant to have seen that and therefore it would not be known that she had.

"Hello." Quinn greeted hesitantly. She walked over and took the seat across from her. "I went to your room to see why you weren't at dinner."

"I wasn't feeling well." Rachel lied. She felt wrong lying to Quinn, but this was a girl who spent every moment that she was in the public eye pretending to be someone she's not with a vile, heartless man who enjoyed viewing the downfalls of others.

"Doing better now, I see." Quinn forced a smile.

"Is there something you need?" Rachel asked. She had not meant for her words to sound as harsh as they had, but their effect on Quinn was on the beneficial side nonetheless.

"I'm sorry." She blurted out. A softness formed in her eyes. "I am so sorry, Rachel, I had no right to dictate your outlook on life the way I did. I feel awfully terrible about the things I said."

"No…you were right. I should give up on childish dreams of love. I suppose I've always been the hopeless romantic. This business will give us many things, but fairness and love are not among them."

Quinn shook her head. "No, I was wrong. I was _wrong_. I was scared and confused. I demanded you see the world the way I was told to see it. But in a place that is this cruel and this indifferent to the people within it…I think a little romanticism is exactly what it needs."

The kitchen door opened and Mercedes entered with a plate in her hands. She stopped when she saw Quinn.

"Mercedes." Rachel gestured to the seat next to her. "Come sit with us."

Mercedes didn't say anything. She sat down the plate in front of Rachel and slowly walked back to the kitchen door. Just before leaving the car, she very quietly said, "Have a good night, Miss Rachel…Miss Quinn."

Rachel looked suspiciously at the girl across from her. "Why is she so afraid of you and Finn?"

Quinn looked surprised to receive such a question. "I don't know what you mean. She's always been absurdly skittish."

"She's a perfectly normal girl when it's just me and her talking."

"Finn isn't very nice to her, I suppose."

"Finn isn't very nice to a lot of people." Rachel took a bite of her mashed potatoes. "How can you stand him?"

"He may be an outrageous, pompous ass…but he's a brilliant man. He's talented in what he does, despite the dark persona he's created for himself."

"But it's not just an act with him, is it? There's something very dark and twisted about that man."

"His ambitious nature blinds any sympathetic qualities he may or may not possess, yes, but that does not make him a complete monster."

"You're right, it simply makes him selfish. But where does that leave you?"

"I will agree that he is a mean person, but he's not incapable of caring about me."

"What about that realistic trash you lectured me with. Here I am, being realistic. Given the chance, we both know he would sooner throw you off this moving train before giving up his spot on it."

"That is absolutely not true. And for the record, this conversation began with me trying to find a balance between us. I don't know why you are so determined to change my opinion of a man I have known much longer than I have known you, but it's immature and irrelevant to what I came here to say."

"By all means, say what you must."

Quinn sighed and tapped her finger on the table. She bit her bottom lip for the slightest of seconds before whispering, "It can't be said here."

"Are you sure you want to say it all then?" Rachel asked, taking another bite of her food. She finished half her plate before Quinn responded.

"I do. I do want to tell you." She nodded. The softness had returned to her eyes, but the rest of her body was tense. Rachel sensed that a great internal battle was being fought within her mind, but it was a mystery as to what the war was about or between.

"Well." Rachel cleared her throat. "I'm full. Your compartment, then?"

"No. No, I would like to visit yours. If that's alright with you?"

They went to Rachel's compartment, passing only Brittany on their way. When they entered the room, Rachel turned to Quinn and asked, "You don't think she'll tell Finn she saw you coming here, do you?"

"Brittany?" Quinn laughed as she sat down on the cot. "The girl is oblivious to her own shadow. She once was kidnapped by a twelve year old boy for over two hours in the attic the theater we due to perform in. Sylvester nearly killed the poor girl when she said the boy had used black magic to lure her up there and keep her prisoner despite her best efforts to escape."

"Well, that's an interesting story." Rachel sat next to her. She had meant to give them space on the little bed, but their shoulders were nearly touching after their combined weight had sunk the mattress down. "What did you want to tell me?"

Quinn stared at the floor as she spoke. "Well, partially I wanted to apologize about the things I said."

"Which you did in the dining car."

"Yes."

"And the other part?"

"Well…I don't exactly know how to say it."

"What is it about?"

Quinn swallowed hard. "Us."

"As in…me and you?"

"Yes."

"What about us?"

"That is the part that is difficult for me to say. I'm still not entirely clear on how I feel about an…us. I just know that I deeply desire there to be some sort of us, but that feeling is equal to the amount of fear it gives me."

"It can't be equal."

"What makes you say that?"

"Well…you're here, aren't you? Opening up about how you feel…you've already beaten the fear."

When Quinn's eyes met Rachel's, a rush of adrenaline shot through her. She felt excited and hopeful, though it was all too easy to remember that it was becoming typical for Quinn to express feelings and then recoil.

"I suppose so." Quinn replied. Rachel could feel the moment for a kiss coming up, and she was hoping more than anything that Quinn would initiate it. "But I have a few…conditions."

"Like?"

"Well, for example…I know very little about you. We definitely need to learn more about each other before anything else can happen."

"I agree. That's a very good idea. Is there more?"

"Everything must be kept a secret. Finn is very concerned about our friendship and he already correctly assumes that we've continued to meet after his threat to stay away from each other. But he would be the least of our problems if Sylvester discovered…something other than friendship here."

"I understand. Anything else?"

"I…" Quinn blushed and looked at her hands. "…I would like it if there was no touching. Nothing physical. No…kissing, or anything of the sort."

The lust that had been stirring in Rachel suddenly seemed much more prominent. "Ever?"

"No!" Quinn blurted out, blushing harder than before. "I mean, maybe. At least…I don't know, it depends, you know? Things still need to be figured out and thought about…I don't know."

Rachel nodded, giving a friendly smile. "So what would you like to know about me?"

The two girls spent the afternoon sharing stories about their pasts and interests, discovering that they both love the 'flapper' fashion trend that was starting to become more and more popular among women and both dislike the taste of the train's specialty stew.

Just before dinner, Quinn left and went to her own compartment so that no one would know the two had spent the past few hours together. They performed the altered lineup that night and the show was much better than the previous night's had been. Sylvester was by no means pleased though. They received another lecture on the train, informing them that she and Schue were considering making a completely new show before the big cities, and if they didn't pick up the pace they definitely would be making serious revisions.

The next morning, they received another two weeks' pay but were also allowed to go shopping around town while the train stocked up on supplies. Rachel made secret plans to meet Quinn two blocks from the station. The first shop they went into was very similar to the secondhand store that Rachel's fathers owned.

"Is it?" Quinn asked when Rachel told her. "It's a nice little shop here."

"It had a much better selection, I must admit." Rachel said. "Hey Quinn?"

"Yes?"

"Do you ever wonder about home? Do you ever wonder what the people you left behind are doing right now?"

Quinn picked up a small wooden horse and examined it as she spoke. "No. I don't worry about the past."

"So you never plan on going back?"

"There's nothing there for me."

"What about your mother?"

"She's probably still in the same house in Brooklyn."

"You don't want to see her again?"

"For what?"

"I don't know…to see how she is?"

"How she is no longer affects my life."

"But…she's your mother!"

"That doesn't mean I'm obligated to see her. Would you see your mother if you were given the chance?"

Rachel was speechless. She had never considered this possibility before.

"See." Quinn shrugged. "It's not as heartless as it sounds."

"But your mother raised you. I was raised by my fathers."

"_Rachel_." Quinn hissed, looking around the shop. "Watch where you say things like that."

"I'm not ashamed of them." Rachel crossed her arms.

Quinn sighed. "It's not about shame, it's about safety. If the wrong people hear you say things like that…there could be horrible consequences. I know it's not fair, but that's how it is."

Rachel dropped her arms and walked to the other side of Quinn, taking the wooden horse from her hands and examining it herself. "I miss them. Terribly."

"From what you've told me, they sound like wonderful men." Quinn whispered, placing her hand on Rachel's shoulder.

"I wish you could meet them. They would love you. The real you, I mean. The you that you are when you're around me."

"I would love to meet them someday. Perhaps when you're on Broadway we'll run into each other in the crowd." Quinn smiled.

Rachel laughed. "Wouldn't that be a dream come true. It'd only be better if you were on stage beside me."

Quinn bit her lip. She watched Rachel for a few moments before dropping her eyes to the floor, a sheepish smile on her lips.

Each day after that, Rachel and Quinn met in Rachel's compartment in the afternoon and talked until dinner. The more they learned about each other, the stronger their connection grew. Two weeks flew by, and before they knew it the Chicago show had arrived.

"Alright, listen up!" Sylvester shouted, calling the entire backstage to her attention. "I cannot stress how extremely important this show is. Our shows in New York City rely on this show and the critics sitting in that audience. Good reviews from here mean a good audience in New York. Now, I'll admit, you've stepped it up since that flu mishap, but if you want to shine…exceed some expectations out there tonight."

Rachel had just finished applying her makeup when Karofsky was introduced. She would have plenty of time before it was her act, which she usually spent warming up her vocals. But tonight, she was greeted by Sam.

"Good evening." Rachel smiled.

"You look beautiful." He noticed, leaning against the wall next to her mirror.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"Is there anything I can help you with?"

"Just here to talk to a friend."

"Are you sure?"

He sighed. "_Okay_…I actually wanted to ask you something."

"What is it?" Rachel's stomach dropped. She was certain he knew about her and Quinn's secret friendship.

"The other day…I saw you talking to someone." He whispered.

"Oh." Rachel desperately tried to think of an excuse as to why she and Quinn would sneak around.

"I was just wondering…if you could tell me about her. I know it's weird for me to ask, but I…I don't know. Well, don't tell anyone this, but I think she's beautiful. Like, really beautiful. I know it'd be complicated and people would be upset if she and I were together, but I don't care about that. Ugh, I don't even know why I'm assuming she would be with me. Can you just…tell me about her? What's she like?"

"You're not going to tell anyone you saw me and her together, right?" Rachel asked carefully.

"Oh, I'll keep it a secret, if you want. I get it. I've felt that way about talking to her. I guess that's why I haven't been able to do it on my own yet. But I'm tired of fighting it. I want to know about her."

Rachel felt the jealousy clouding her mind. "What would you want to know?"

He leaned forward and grinned. "What's her name?"

Rachel blinked. "Her name?"

"I've never heard anyone use it." He shrugged. "She's always just there. No one ever has to call for her."

It was then that Rachel realized Sam wasn't talking about Quinn

"Her name is Mercedes." Rachel answered, relief flooding through her.

"Mercedes." Sam smiled. "Beautiful name for a beautiful girl. What else do you know?"

"Not much, I'm afraid. She's very shy at first, but once you show her that you're a nice person, she'll open up. She's very friendly and caring. I think you two would get on just fine."

"Really?" Sam nearly giggled at hearing this news. "Could you…could you introduce us?"

"Of course." Rachel put her hand on top of his. "Don't worry about what anyone else thinks. Love should never be judged."

He thanked her and said farewell. Rachel decided to find a quiet place to warm up her voice. She found a small empty backroom down the hall from the main backstage area. She was only in there a few minutes before Quinn burst into the room. She shut the door gently behind her but rushed over to Rachel, her heels clicking furiously against the floor.

"What were you talking about with Sam Evans?" She demanded, her hands on her hips and her intimidating makeup increasing her already angry expression.

Rachel smiled. "Are you jealous?"

Quinn narrowed her eyes. "Why are you avoiding the question?"

"He wanted me to tell him about Mercedes." Rachel grinned. "They both like each other but they've been too shy to even say hello."

"Really?" Quinn's emotions flipped. "That's so sweet."

"I can't believe how jealous you just were." Rachel giggled.

Quinn blushed and turned away. "What was I supposed to think? He was leaning in so close to you and you looked so pleased at whatever he was whispering. Then you put your hand on his…I felt awful."

Rachel smiled and turned Quinn to face her. "You really _like _me."

"That's been established before." Quinn whispered, avoiding eye contact.

"What did you want to do? When you thought Sam was talking romantically with me?" Rachel smiled and tucked a lock of blonde hair behind Quinn's ear.

Quinn's eyes hit Rachel's with such intensity that it almost made her gasp. Quinn's eyebrows furrowed as she stepped closer to her. "I wanted to yell at him. I wanted to tell him that he can't have you. I felt hurt. And then I thought about how much more it would hurt to watch you be his. And suddenly I was regretting all the times I wanted to kiss you…and didn't."

"You can kiss me anytime you like." Rachel whispered.

A smile crept on to Quinn's lips just before they touched Rachel's. All of the pent up passion that the two had been withholding for weeks was suddenly set free. All cares fled them, their hands held each other, their breaths were one. Once the kisses had calmed down, Quinn found the ability to remind Rachel that they had a show to perform.

"Good luck out there. I'm dedicating tonight's song to you, beautiful." Rachel called after her as she headed for the door.

Quinn turned and smiled the most genuine smile Rachel had ever seen. She shook her head and jokingly said, "Oh, shut up, Rachel."


End file.
